gordian knot

instant fervent glorious baptism in white wasteland

the musicians have all passed out

the cards all undealt

the beers in the fridge

slosh it all down

go unto the night as a child would

the notes in the songs correspond to stars

eight flames in eastern dark

the minstrel crashes into the audience

i sing the songs of the dead

the real and the imaginary

i sing the songs written by waiters and housewives

i arrange the cobwebs and the dew

i orchestrate the floral dominions where mission fainted in joy

mustardseed and poppy

indica into rose into swollen purple headed evening clouds

my music falling down around me like glowing ashes

we pack up our lutes in our utes and usually some disputed flute

i sit at a red table with a silver fork

women of whitest flesh and blackest clothes

peppermint and lavender then

mandrake rooted in mansuit

henbane beltane

morgoth black christ angel in conflicto delicto

the sides collide i ride along on my song

this song lifts me up

this song lets me down

this song never sing in this part of town

my planets arrive

each one orbiting a guitar fixture

aliens abound man in my deepest spine

an abyss of cosmic secret darkness

one day you will plummet it i am so sure

until then the hum of the stars

and the searing loss of time elapsed